* Second Day Home ..

I am very tired today.  Can't understand it. ; o )  I think my body is trying to tell me to slow down for a little while.  I am going to follow orders.

Had a meeting with Carlos the foreman this morning.  De Luz was a very busy place today.  The 500 gallon cistern has arrived.  They are having trouble digging it into the ground because they have hit rock.  Instead, we are going to build a terrace over the top.  I think it will look gorgeous.  The terrace will come off of the juliet balcony nearest the wall.  As soon as I have the drawings and approve them, we will begin.  Estimated completion date .... probably 4 weeks now with the terrace added.

Habibi in his new home for the first time.

The yard was a beehive of activity.

The front wall being plastered.

Then ... because I am going to slow down now ... we went shopping.  To antique shops! Here's what I found.

A wardrobe.  I will have a place to hang my cloths!

A Table.  This old door will be modified.  Love the colours.  It will brighten my kitchen.

AND ... a little old piggy trough.  So many possibilities, I dare not think.  A planter, a window box, a table with glass on top ... that way you could fill it up with flowers, collections, writing .... who knows!  Don't know exactly where it will end up yet, however, it will be special.

Now for the views from Sylvias' roof.

The light purple colour in the trees are the Jacaranda.  Late blooming this year, they waited for my return.  One of my favorite trees in the world.  Fell in love with them first in Mexico, then again in Australia.  Magnificent colour.

Watching the moon rise over the hills of San Miguel was breath taking.  Pure Magic.  How do you put that into words?  I think perhaps this sums it up for me. 

"Death is always on the way, but the fact that you don't know when it will arrive seems to take away from the finiteness of life. It's that terrible precision that we hate so much. But because we don't know, we get to think of life as an inexhaustible well. Yet everything happens a certain number of times, and a very small number, really. How many more times will you remember a certain afternoon of your childhood, some afternoon that's so deeply a part of your being that you can't even conceive of your life without it? Perhaps four or five times more. Perhaps not even. How many more times will you watch the full moon rise? Perhaps twenty. And yet it all seems limitless."   ~  Paul Bowles